So Dark Night Creepeth
by Culumacilinte
Summary: ‘Part of the crew, part of the ship,’ Bootstrap’s thoughts during the sequence of AWE wherein Elizabeth and her crew escape, augmented somewhat by the fact that Norrington does not die and Bootstrap, in fact, does. Third person, told from Bootstrap’s POV


**Title: **So Dark Night Creepeth

**Author: **Culumacilinte

**Rating: **PG

**Characters: **Bootstrap Bill Turner, James Norrington, a brief appearance from Elizabeth

**Disclaimer: **I am neither the Mouse nor Jerry Bruckheimer. I'm but a pirate.

**Summary: **'Part of the crew, part of the ship'- Bootstrap's thoughts during the sequence of AWE wherein Elizabeth and her crew escape, augmented somewhat by the fact that Norrington does not die and Bootstrap, in fact, does. Third person, told from Bootstrap's point of view

**Author's Note: **Any grammatical inaccuracies contained herein are entirely intentional and used to reflect Bootstrap's unfortunate mental state at the time these events occurred.

_Part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship-_

The words repeat themselves over and over again in his head; a mantra, a fever-dream, the only thing that makes sense amidst the fog of half-formed thoughts and mostly forgotten memories. It's bad, he thinks, but he doesn't know why.

_Part of the crew, part of the ship-_

Empty, when Bootstrap opens his eyes. The cell, the brig is empty, except for him. Wrong. It shouldn't be; there should be the girl, Elizabeth, who knows his son. She knows him, says he's coming, says he can't. The girl and the strange crew of men with slanted eyes and dark, plaited hair (Singaporean, whispers a voice in his head, and he thinks of Jack, though he can't recall who Jack is or why he should be remembering him). Why are they gone. They've escaped.

Escaped

Escape. William! William his son. William is going to come and help him escape. He promised, he took a knife and he vowed to stab the heart of the Captain-

Pain and the flake of coral as he breaks away from the hull-_part of the ship_, he is now literally- he cannot let them escape. If he lets them escape, he would be a bad crewman, and that he cannot be. Who opened the cell? There is only one man who holds the key; Navy, the Admiral, with the wig so white and starched and the pain writ in every line of his face. No. He cannot let them escape. He pushes open the grated door and leaves, lumbering clumsily up stairs.

_Part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship-_

The Admiral. Eyes flashing green fear, green like the sails of the _Dutchman_, like the depths of the sea (he knows them intimately, remembers their crushing depths, the weight of water pressing, pressing, pressing- how? He does not know. The memory floats, unplaced). There is a sword in his hand. The girl next to him, the girl Elizabeth, the pirate captain girl.

Elizabeth, Miss Swann; she was betrothed to William when last he spoke to his son. She's beautiful, and he imagines her standing next to his son tall and strapping with the brown eyes so like his mothers-

He cannot remember her name.

Do you know my son?

The sword red like blood in the firelight, and he kisses the girl and tells her to go

Does William kiss her like that?

He hears her sobs, knows maybe he should be moved to pity by her cries. There is no pity. Cold he is, cold like the sea, like the _Dutchman._ He has lost his heart too, maybe, the danger of sailing with a heartless man. He wants it back. No, it cannot be. A warm heart cannot beat upon the ghost ship, cannot be, warm red blood frozen, turned to water, to brine and bilge in his veins.

_Part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew-_

No! There is no pity, for she is gone, spider-like scrambling over ropes. Wrong. The ropes should not be there, the Captain said nothing of ropes. This is the Admiral's doing, he knows, and faces him with his length of wood, sharp-cruel, splinter-jagged edges like the sparring of the ship. Ship the _Dutchman_, ship the keeper of his soul, he is part of the ship; he must do as he must do. The Admiral's eyes. Fear there.

Fear in a different pair of eyes, he sees- Jack's eyes, the colour of cacao and rum and honey. There was a mutiny, led by Hector Barbossa, the traitorous bastard, and in Jack's dancing eyes there is fear-

Fear soon replaced by loathing, and the sword bends and flashes soul-bright in the eldritch light of ship lamps. He cannot move, cannot breathe, he is-

_-part of the ship-_

-pain. The sword in his belly. Wrong. It shouldn't be there- and then it's not, wrenched out by a hand decorated by a blue-and-brocade cuff. The Admiral. He's dead, then. Or can he die? His one-hundred years are not served, not yet done. But pain, pain cold and bright and green eyes staring with shock before he turns, shedding the Admiral's coat and hat and clambering onto the rope to escape. Escape. He cannot escape. Bootstrap must not let him. But he cannot move, and the pain is dulling, dulling, dulling and eyesight is fading and he must not leave!

_Part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship-_

Lamplight and ghostlight dim. He remembers Jack, suddenly. Sparrow Jack, quick as the bird he is named for, and he remembers Singapore. He laughs, and there is blood on his lips. William. His son. He remembers Will, William, You've returned son returned to me. William returned with blood on his shirt. Blood. Blood like father like son. Part of the ship no longer.

_Part of the crew, part of the ship-_

_Part of the crew, part-_

_Part of the crew-_

_Part of the-_

_Part of-_

_Part-_

_P-_

The light fades.


End file.
